You're My Christmas Present
by E.C. Spence
Summary: A Points in the Right Direction One-Shot. Regulus takes Spencer on what was supposed to be a romantic Christmas date, but it ends up being full of perils neither expected, like trains, turnstiles, and Death Eaters. Yet both realize that this casual thing they started months ago, isn't so casual anymore...


A/N: So we didn't break four hundred reviews on Points in the Right Direction. But, to thank you all for being such amazing readers, we wrote not one one-shot, but two! Here is the surprise outtake for the runners-up in our poll—Spencer and Regulus!

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**E.C. Spence is Proud to Present:**

**You're My Christmas Present  
A Points in the Right Direction One-Shot**

She slid onto the scratched wooden bench, resting her forearms on the table. She scanned the packed pub, full of brightly cloaked witches and wizards fortified against the cold. Many were stopped for a warm pint during their last-minute Christmas shopping.

He wasn't here yet.

Spencer slunk back into the shadows provided by the corner table as much as possible. She pulled her hood further over her face, trying to suppress a giggle. She felt rather dastardly, sitting wreathed in shadows at the back corner of the pub, like an illegal tradesman waiting for a delivery of doxy eggs. It seemed like such a fuss when all she was doing was meeting a boy for a date.

She took a deep breath as her heart did an uncomfortable pirouette in her chest. They had been sneaking around the castle since the end of October, since their fateful confrontation in the library. However, today was the first time that he had asked her to meet him somewhere in public. Today was her first real date with Regulus Black.

Nervously, she adjusted the red ribbon which held her hair away from her face, wondering where he was. Her heart jolted into her throat as she realized that he could have thought better of it, that he might have decided she wasn't worth the risk of his family finding out…

"You weren't thinking I stood you up, were you?" a familiar voice intoned. Spencer jumped, whirling to face the smirking countenance of Regulus Black. He was shrouded in a hunter green cloak. It was drawn up like hers, framing cheeks flushed from the cold.

"How do you do that?" Spencer asked as he held out a hand, drawing her from the booth quickly. He raised one dark eyebrow. "Always answer things I didn't say out loud," she clarified.

He shrugged lightly, ducking his face toward their still entwined hands as a wan-looking older witch with a pointed nose wandered past. He shook his head when Spencer opened her mouth to ask.

"When we get to the door, I'm going to duck outside," Regulus murmured, his lips right by her ear. Even through the thick fabric of her hood, his breath seemed to burn across her skin. She shivered and it had nothing to do with the cold. "Right before you leave, transfigure your cloak into a muggle coat."

Wordlessly, she kept her head down and allowed Regulus to lead her out of the Leaky Cauldron. He did not go back toward the bustling streets of Diagon Alley, but toward the entrance to Muggle London. Spencer paused in the doorway, unclasping her cloak and tapping it with her wand. It morphed into a knee-length coat. Not bad, except the trim was still there. She emerged to find that Regulus had ducked into the shadows of a shiny new store that sold something called records.

"Sorry," Regulus said, as he helped her into her jacket. "That was Mrs. Avery, a friend of my mothers," his nose wrinkled in distaste, an aristocratic gesture that Spencer had seen frequently on his elder brother's face. Spencer bit her lip, reminded suddenly of why they had to hide their faces in the first place. How foolish she had been to daydream about the two of them walking hand in mittened hand through the cobbled streets of Diagon Alley, maybe take a daring turn down Knockturn Alley. But people might see them...

A warm hand was suddenly lowering her hood, brushing her cheek as his palm came to rest there. Regulus smiled, tilted her head back and gave her a soft, lingering kiss. "I've been looking forward to that since we left school," he admitted, drawing back to survey her flushed cheeks.

"Trade?" he asked, offering her his bright blue scarf. She gaped at him, noticing for the first time that he too was wearing a muggle winter coat.

"Did you just do magic in Muggle London?" she asked, even as she unwound her school scarf and handed it to him.

"No, I shrunk my cloak right before we left," he smiled, wrapping the scarlet and gold cloth around his neck. "I had this on underneath it," he explained, gesturing toward his scarf as he tugged his glove back on. "How does it look?"

"Strange," Spencer admitted, not used to seeing Regulus sporting any other colors than the silver and green of Slytherin house.

"Good," he grinned down at her, proffering an arm gallantly. "Even if we do run into a muggle born student, no one will think it's me. I would never deign to wear such a nasty garment."

She scowled up at him, before realizing that he was joking. Spencer tucked her hand into his elbow as they began to pick their way down the slushy sidewalk.

Regulus studied her intently with sidelong glances. Her eyes sparkled with the reflection of the garish blinking lights illuminating most of the window panes on the gray morning. His eyes followed the motion of her hands as she gently adjusted the bright blue scarf Regulus had placed around her neck. Regulus decided not to disclose to her that he had picked the garment because it matched the shade of her eyes exactly.

"Where are we going?" Spencer asked, her eyes roaming over the muggles scrambling around with shopping bags. The cars—taxis—that she had learned about in Muggle Studies, blared their horns every few seconds, causing the pair to jump repeatedly.

"Wherever we want," Regulus replied, staring accusatorially at a man who had just whistled for a taxi, obviously judging him for being so undignified. "Today we are just a normal couple out on a date, and no annoying friends, brothers, or other parties are going to interfere."

He pulled her to the side as a woman carrying eight shopping bags too many tottered down the sidewalk. "You mean you didn't plan anything?" Spencer asked apprehensively. She had seen maps of muggle London in class, but it was very intimidating in person. Where would they even start?

"Well, I did sort of plan one thing," Regulus admitted, "but if you don't like it you have to promise you'll tell me."

"I'm sure I'll love it," Spencer said brightly, her finger compressing slightly around his arm. "Anything with you is fine."

Regulus tried to ignore the way his heart danced exuberantly in his chest at her words. "We have to get to this address," he drew a piece of parchment out of his pocket and handed it to her. She surveyed the piece of parchment with bemusement as Regulus pulled several pieces of paper out of his pocket, which unfolded, all appeared to be pages torn from a book.

"Did you-?"

"Tear them out of a muggle-studies reference book in the Hogwarts library?" Regulus finished for her, holding the parchment closer to his nose. Spencer could see little wriggling arrows denoting their path. "Don't worry, I'll put them back with a quick repairing charm after break."

"Regulus," Spencer said, peering over his shoulder to look at the map, "that's almost thirty blocks from here." Spencer, who had been into muggle London only briefly when visiting Lily over the summer holidays, remembered how big one block could be. Her legs ached just from the memory of it.

"It can't be too far, can it?" He looked downcast, at the incredulous look on Spencer's face. She pulled to a halt, her eyes wide with excitement as she spotted a familiar logo just ahead.

"We could take the underground!" she suggested excitedly. She had always wanted to try the strange tunnel system she had read about in class. In her head, she pictured a scarlet steam engine, streaking along dirt tunnels, lit by flickering torches. "Did you bring muggle money?" she asked, as she started toward the sign. Regulus followed, haphazardly stuffing his maps back into his pocket in his hurry to keep up with his date.

"Of course I did," Regulus replied, as he took the dingy concrete steps two at a time, while Spencer pranced beside him. Regulus was not opposed to spontaneity so long as Spencer kept holding his hand. The longer she did it, the more it reassured him that she really wanted to be there with him.

"I'll pay you back for the fares once we're back for the holidays," Spencer told him as they approached a window with a rather angry-looking middle-aged man wearing a Santa Claus hat sitting behind it.

"You will not," Regulus in such an indignant way that it caused Spencer to stare at him. His face flooded scarlet. "A gentleman never makes a lady pay for their date," he mumbled.

His blush deepened with pleasure when Spencer brushed her lips across his cheek. It was an old-fashioned sentiment, but sweet nonetheless. They could argue over who paid on another date. Spencer's stomach swooped when she realized she was thinking about going on a second date with her friend's hated brother without a shred of remorse.

A quarter of an hour later, after a very confusing conversation with the angry man, which was not aided by Regulus questioning whether he "had a brain under that rather impressive bald spot" and a quite aggressive confrontation with a muggle contraption known as a turnstile, Spencer and Regulus were standing on the edge of the crowded platform. The stood silently for a moment, listening to a small band of musicians wearing hideous wool ponchos sing "God Rest Ye Merry Gentlemen."

"I thought this song was about hippogriffs," Regulus remarked, studying the thick yellow line painted on the platform, along with the words "Mind the Gap."

"Well, muggles don't know anything about hippogriffs," Spencer reasoned. Regulus stepped curiously over the yellow line, staring down into the sunken ditch that divided their part of the platform from the other side. Parallel metal beams ran down through the tunnel, disappearing into darkness.

"Is this a train?" he asked dubiously, stepping farther out peering down into the darkness. "Why did they put a train underground?" he demanded.

"Because then they didn't have to tear down buildings that were already built or something," Spencer explained, her hand latching onto Regulus' coat.

"Reg—" Spencer began, turning to see a uniformed guard, hustling toward them while a woman's pleasant voice began announcing something about the Piccadilly Circus. Light was approaching rapidly from the depths of the right-hand tunnel.

"Reg!" Spencer said urgently, applying more force on his sleeve.

"What?" he asked, turning on his heel.

Too close to the edge, his back foot slipped, just as the tunnel blazed brilliant white. Regulus was silhouetted in the glare of the train's headlamps, a black figure teetering into the trains' blazing path—

WHAM.

Regulus suddenly found himself careening forward, toward the safety of the platform. He vaguely heard the sound of shouts around him, felt the legs of the people moving to get out of his way as he fell.

The impact was much less painful than it rightfully should have been. With a start he realized that he had fallen half on top of Spencer, whose one hand was buried beneath him, where she had one hand wrapped in the fabric of his coat, the other locked in an iron grip around his waist. He met her wide, panicked eyes. Understanding hit him with an impact that might have rivaled the train had it succeeded. Spencer had just risked her life to save his. If her force hadn't been enough, he could have dragged her into the train's path, too.

He opened his mouth, but no sound came out over the deafening shrieking of the train's breaks as it slowed. The guard was yelling at them, helping Spencer to her feet. Her hand was shaking as it retrieved the sagging ribbon from her mused hair.

"I'm sorry," she said to the guard. "My friend and I, we're from the country we've never ridden the underground." Regulus stood, staring down at the pudgy man with the rigid Black stoicism he'd learned from a young age. "Today's trip was our Christmas gift," Spencer lied. The guard's expression melted as he surveyed Spencer's earnest face.

"It's alright, Miss. You just gave me a fright. Keep your friend here behind that line, or I would consider taking a cab." Spencer nodded, looking almost incapable of saying anything else. The guard shot Regulus a nasty, disproving glare as he started moving away.

Spencer led Regulus to the train doors. She held his hand as she stepped cautiously over the gap, squeezing into the press of people, so as not to get shut in the doors.

Regulus reached up to hold the metal bar above his head, mimicking the muggle men he saw doing the same thing since all of the seats were full. He wrapped an arm around Spencer's waist, holding her steady against him as the train jolted to a start.

"I can't believe we still took this thing after I almost got crushed by it." Spencer gave a strange sort of half-laugh, half-sob and Regulus was startled to see tears in your eyes when she looked up at him.

"Come on now," he joked, pulling her tighter, "I wouldn't have been that great of a loss." One hand collided painfully with his chest.

"Don't even…that's not funny," she said lamely, burrowing her face in his chest. Shocked, and somewhat awed that someone cared so much about him after just a few stolen outings, Regulus pressed his lips to her forehead. "Thank you," he murmured.

She opened the fist pressed to his chest, seeing the red velvet ribbon balled in her palm. "Well, I suppose my hair is ruined," she said quietly.

Regulus eyed her with disbelief, before realizing that she was trying to lighten the mood. "No," he reassured her as he carried his hand over the frizzing edges. "It's perfect." But what he really meant was _You're perfect._

~PRD~

Several minutes later they were in much better spirits, having emerged from the traumatic underground back into the steely sunlight. Linked arm in arm, Spencer insisted on asking for directions and they found their way to their destination without further mishap.

"I think that nice lady made a mistake," Spencer said. She stared down at the address written on the paper before turning back in awe to the soaring edifice in front of them, all swooping Grecian lines, towering pillars, and carved tableaus of laurel-crowned men.

"No, this is it," he said, pointing to a poster on one limestone pillar depicting a dreamy-eyed girl clutching a boxy wooden man in front of a Christmas tree.

"The Nutcracker!" Spencer practically squealed, and Regulus thought he might burst from pride as his own ability to make her happy. "How did you know that's one of my favorite stories?"

"I did catch you reading it before we went on break—twice." He shrugged, "I overheard some muggle born Hufflepuff girl going on about how she came to see this with her mother every year. I thought you might like it," he blushed scarlet, when Spencer continued to gaze at him, her mouth slightly open. "But if this ballet thing is terrible, we don't have to stay for the whole—"

He was cut off as Spencer's warm lips pressed against his wind-chilled cheek. "Thank you," she said simply and he guided her into the lobby.

"I love this story," Spencer chattered away happily as they waited in line with the milling crowd, slowly making its way into the theatre.

"I don't really know it," Regulus lied. His mother had read it to them when they were little, before she had snapped. He and Sirius had run all over the house, stealing their parents' wands and attempting to make the toys battle the rats that occasionally snuck into the kitchen. He just liked watching the way Spencer's eyes lit up when she was excited.

"Well, its starts out on Christmas eve a long time ago. Marie gets a present of a nutcracker from her godfather, Drosselmeyer, who's a powerful wizard," Spencer explained, bumping into his back when a child ran passed being chased by her harried mother.

"What she doesn't know," Spencer continued, waving her hands animatedly as she wove her tale, "is the nutcracker is actually Drosselmeyer's handsome nephew, whose been transfigured by a rival sorcerer named Rattigan. In retaliation for cursing his nephew, Drosselmeyer transformed Rattigan into a rat. On Christmas Eve, the spells start to fade, and they fight a great wizard's duel, the half-transformed nephew leading the toys into battle against Rattigan and his henchmen. Just when Rattigan becomes fully human, Marie throws her shoe at him," she enthusiastically demonstrated the action, "and it surprises the sorcerer so much that he freezes and the Nephew defeats him once and for all. In gratitude, he takes Marie around the world, teaching her powerful magic, and they fall in love…"

She trailed off, her eyes meeting his. He felt like Marie's shoe had just hit him; it was suddenly hard to breathe staring into those eyes. Spencer turned her eyes to the aisle lights as the usher coughed politely, and Regulus followed him to their seats.

"I can't believe they built this without magic," Regulus said awkwardly, staring around the horse-shoe shaped theatre, all plush red seats and glittering gilded opulence.

"I know," Spencer said, leaning over the division that separated them from the people on the floor. "The view from here is amazing!" They were up a story, on the second balcony, looking slightly down on the stage.

He handed her a program when she sat back in her seat, purposefully brushing his hand along hers. He breathed a silent sigh of relief when she shifted closer to him, her shoulder and arm pressed against his. The uncomfortable tension that had built between them had thankfully eased. Spencer hummed happily as she flipped through the program, her eyes scanning the synopsis eagerly. "Muggles tell the story differently," she remarked.

Whether or not that was a good thing or not he never found out, as the lights began to dim and the first twinkling strains of music echoed through the theatre. He hardly cared as Spencer's slim fingers curled around his, her breath releasing with a soft sigh of delight as the curtain rose.

~PRD~

Muggles were insane, Regulus had decided twenty minutes later, his jaw falling open. Spencer apparently echoed some of his sentiment, as she was leaning forward in her seat to get a better look.

"Is she standing on her _toes_?" Regulus hissed in Spencer's ear. Spencer nodded, apparently entranced.

Regulus felt a pang of sympathy, but the woman didn't seem to feel anything, prancing gracefully about. He made a sudden mental note to thank the woman , as soft chestnut hair cascaded over his shoulder, Spencer's head fitting perfectly into the crook of his neck.

He stroked his thumb over the back of her hand where their fingers were once more intertwined. Maybe they weren't so insane, Regulus decided as the music swelled to new heights.

No, he decided, changing his mind when the woman began to turn suspended on one tiny foot. Muggles were definitely insane.

~PRD~

"That was amazing!" Spencer crowed as they exited the theatre into the last dregs of twilight falling over the city. "The way they made it snow! And how the whole room got bigger! I can barely believe it was done without magic!" She twirled in a fairly graceful imitation of the dancers onstage. Regulus was glad that she hadn't tried to stand on her toes; she might have broken an ankle. "I just wish Marie hadn't thought it was a dream at the end," Spencer lamented, twirling less vigorously this time.

"I'm glad you liked it," Regulus said, catching her mid-twirl and dipping her dramatically on the sidewalk. He was gratified when she shrieked and wrapped her arms tightly around his neck.

"I didn't like it, I _loved_ it," she said emphatically, as he righted her easily.

"Happy Christmas," he murmured, admiring the way her blue eyes glittered in the twinkling fairy lights adorning the front of the theatre. She arched her chin up slightly, a silent invitation, which he accepted immediately, sliding his mouth slowly over hers. It was a slow and gentle simmer that promised to ignite a forest fire if he wasn't careful. He drew back, determined to keep it sweet, to not frighten her away when he had had the good fortune to have found her that one day in the library.

"Don't forget to remind me to give you your Christmas present," Spencer remarked as they slowly set off up the street, there was a silent agreement between them to not take the underground again.

"I thought you just did," Regulus remarked, giving her a trademark smirk. She poked him playfully in the arm in protest of his cheek.

"No, I have it in here." She patted the bag that had been slung across her shoulders all day. He had merely assumed she was using it to carry her wand. "Do we have to go back?" Spencer asked, "I'm so tired of wrapping gifts, even if I can do it by magic."

He bit his lip, wishing nothing more than to stay in muggle London with Spencer, but he had been assigned guard duty tonight at headquarters, told he was watching some new prisoner. He thought maybe Spencer suspected his involvement with the Dark Lord, but was desperate to prolong the inevitable as long as possible.

"Well, I can think of much better things we could do," Regulus replied, drawing his grandfather's watch out of his pocket to check the time.

It was then, out of the corner of his eye that he saw them.

Hooded, masked figures in sweeping cloaks, were striding down the alley in their direction. Regulus pushed Spencer quickly into the gloom of a closed storefront. He shielded her from view with his body, hiding his face in her hair.

"W-what?" she said breathlessly as their footsteps drew nearer. His hand clenched around the wand in his pocket.

Spencer turned her head toward the sudden sound of rushing water. Regulus was guessing the death eater had exploded a pipe or something just because they could.

"Reg—" she started, but he cut her off with his lips, desperate that she wouldn't say his name as they rounded the corner. He pulled her further into the darkness of the stoop, pressed her back against the glass of the store window.

He imagined he could feel her heart hammering; they were pressed so close together. Yet in spite of the imminent danger, her lips moved warmly, desperately against his, as if she would rather do nothing with what could be the last moments of her life, than kiss him. Something painful in his chest constricted, and his fingers echoed the feeling, crunching the fabric of her coat beneath them.

He hadn't realized how deep this thing had become for him, how all consuming the sudden need to keep her safe truly was.

He rolled his head to the side, breaking contact. He peered out into the lamp-lit streets. Water was flooding the slushy pavement and angry shouts could be heard. Relieved, it looked like the happy-muggle hunters were heading away from them.

Spencer's head was tilted back against the glass, as she gasped for breath, puffs of steam rising into the frigid air. He fought down the illogical desire to press her against the window once more. "Were those…Death Eaters?" she whispered, trailing her head to a vertical position to look at him.

He nodded, unable to think of anything to say. She swallowed, her grip on his coat loosening. "I read about them torturing muggles in the _Prophet_," Spencer muttered. "But I didn't think they actually came into the city to do it." She pushed off of the window, her fingers loosening from their grip on his lapels. "I think we should head back now. I want to send an owl to Lily, tell her to stay out of the city."

Regulus led the way out of the alcove, checking the street for anything unusual before walking in what he hoped was the direction of the Leaky Cauldron at speedy clip. He didn't reach for Spencer's hand, worried that she was currently putting all the pieces together.

Mentally, he cursed himself for falling for his brother's friend, a girl on the opposite side of an outright war. A girl on the side bound to lose.

He swore to himself that it didn't matter. Even if she resented him for it, he would protect her. Hell, he would make her marry him. His reputation and the family name would protect her, as would her pureblood status. He tried to quash down the sickening feeling of dread that filled him at the idea of Spencer hating him.

"Hey? Are you alright?" her quiet voice pulled him out of his thoughts, her suede mitten hand closing around his. _Better now,_ he thought. He kept the notion to himself and they walked the rest of the way in silence.

~PRD~

"Wait," Spencer said, stopping Regulus a few stores down from the entrance to the Leaky Cauldron. "I have to give you this."

She pulled a thin box out of her bag, wrapped in red and green paper. "It's not much," she said self-consciously, watching apprehensively as he tore open the paper and lifted the lid. His head fell back, laughter ringing in the nearly empty street.

In the box was a perfect replica of mistletoe, constructed out of chocolate. "It's almost perfect," he grinned.

Spencer's face fell. "Almost?"

It was her turn to laugh as he lifted the box above their heads and claimed the traditional kiss. Regulus then demanded she owed him one for New Years too. It was several minutes before either one snuck back into the bustle of the Leaky Cauldron.

~PRD~

On Christmas Eve, Spencer sat in front of the fire of her house, nestled in a pile of blankets while Christmas music played softly on the wireless. She was taking a sip of her gigantic mug of hot chocolate as she flipped open the owl that had arrived from Sirius.

Hot chocolate sloshed onto her hand, causing her to hiss and set the mug down rapidly. Her eyes scanned the parchment again, as if they were struggling to make sense of the words following the customary greetings.

_Lily was taken by Death Eaters in muggle London a few days ago when we got off the Hogwarts express. She escaped (That's our girl!). Mrs. Potter healed her up and she's fine. James is taking care of her or is going to soon anyway (FINALLY) so she'll be more than fine in a couple of hours, I suspect. I almost walked in on them about to kiss earlier. Remus and I were eavesdropping…_

The rest of the letter was filled with the sordid details of her friends' love life that she would usually soak up like a grindylow but she couldn't stop the terrible chill that seemed to be worming its way through her blanket nest.

Her best friend had been taken by Death Eaters. The war she read about in the papers suddenly seemed so much realer. She felt like a traitor, the guilt that she had been suppressing gnawed at her insides. She was seeing a boy whose family was outspoken in their support of Voldemort and his ideas.

Her eyes fell on the bottom part of the letter.

_We're having New Years at the Potters this year. Even Electra's agreed to come. They'll be plenty of Ogden's and probably some kisses to go around (just avoid the older Aurors). So you better be there. _

_Love, _

_Sirius_

Pain surged through her as she stared at the word above the signature. How long had she waited to be his New Years kiss, to see that word meant in something other than friendship? She shoved the paper aside, trembling hands reaching for her hot chocolate mug sipping the dark liquid down to quell the panic rising within her.

"Spencer, dear," her mother asked, as she entered the room, a parcel in her arms, "are you alright?" Spencer nodded mutely, and her mother handed her the package. "This just came for you in the post. Let me know if you need anything."

Spencer waited until her mother had left the room before tearing open the brown packing paper to reveal a large rectangular box. Inside was an elaborately carved Nutcracker, in brightly colored regalia, a bejeweled crown ringing his round head.

A nutcracker prince. Instead of a basket of nuts in his arms, he bore a tiny chocolate cake. The note read only,

_Same time next year? _

_-R.A.B._

Her heart did a funny little flip and Spencer froze.

She would _not_ fall for Regulus Black.

She had never considered that it would even get this far, didn't realize she would like him this much, and was shocked that he was interested in her.

But she had promised herself that this wouldn't become something serious.

_I will not fall for Regulus Black,_ she repeated to herself. "I just won't," she told the nutcracker.

The wooden prince just smiled his mysterious painted smile up at her, as if he already knew it was too late.

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A/N: Reviews are like electronic gifts, and they're free to give!

Merry Christmas (or whatever you celebrate) dearest readers! May your holidays be relaxing and your New Year full of magic!


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